Sunday, August 22, 2010

Welcome Full-Blown Taste of Summer! This little pie announces summer with a trumpet call. So unpack that eggplant from your CSA box or toddle on over to your local farmers' market for some bell peppers, because summer is on! Yes, yes, the kiddies are returning to school and the days are getting shorter, but it can taste like sweet, sweet summer for a couple of more weeks.

As I mentioned in the last entry, we made dinner for the husband's parents in order to celebrate the end of Napfest 2010. And this Tortino is darned astonishing. While the recipe is long, this isn't really all that hard to make.

Granted, this was the first time I ever cooked this dish, so I set aside a good two hours and worked without hurry. I made the recipe in a different order than Marcella suggests: I chose to drain eggplant, roast peppers, make crepes, fry eggplant, assemble. However, Marcella also points out that you can make the filling and the crepes ahead of time, and then assemble when needed. So you be the master of your own kitchen, you rockstar you. Marcella, of course, knows her stuff, so let her at least be your guide.

Like, say, Julia or Alice, Marcella goes by her given name, at least in the confines of our little kitchen. Should I ever meet her, however, she would be the divine Ms. Hazan. She earned her doctoral degree from the University of Ferrara, an institution that holds a special place in our hearts, as the husband spent some time there in the summer of 2003. But Marcella turned her back on the biological sciences and transferred her allegiance to a tiny New York kitchen, a room where she had little practical experience before her marriage. However, her taste buds guided her, and she found a new home with traditional Italian cooking. She then opened her own cooking school--The School of Classic Italian Cooking. Now she's a veritable cooking superstar, standing toe to toe with all the other cooking giants.

This recipe hails from Bologna, where Marcella had a cooking school for a while. Apparently, on the first night the students arrived, Marcella would entertain in Ristorante Diana, where students would coo over this pie-like construction. In Bologna crepes are often used like pasta dough either to produce lasagna-like layered assemblages or as cannelloni. Hey, you should trust the Bolognese, as Parma ham, balsamic vinegar, and bolognese sauce (meat ragu) all hail from the city and its surrounding region. You can make this as pie or roll up a single crespella around the filling to make a large cannellone out of each. We, however, went the pie route and were not disappointed. This recipe is certainly worth the time and effort for the first attempt. And now having made it, I imagine that subsequent assemblies will take far less time.

We also decided that you could vary the filling: onion and butternut squash with gouda, zucchini and red peppers with parmesan, tomatoes and spinach with ricotta. Really you're limited only by imagination and the seasonal produce. This recipe will not steer you wrong. So get to it. It looks like you have some cooking to do.

Instructions:Making the Crespelle
1. Pour the flour into a bowl. Add the milk in a very thin stream, beating steadily with a whisk, taking care that lumps do not form.

2. When all the milk has been incorporated, add the whole egg, the egg yolk, and a pinch of salt. Mix steadily for about 2 minutes, then transfer the batter through a strainer into another small, deep bowl. [Yes, do this, even though it seems like an extra step. But you will have smooth crepes this way.]

3. Turn on the heat under a nonstick skillet to very low. When the skillet is hot, spear the hard pat of butter with a fork and, with a rapid motion, very lightly swipe the bottom of the pan with it.

4. Scoop up 1/4 cup of the crespelle batter and pour it into the pan, spreading it as much as possible Lift up the pan by its handle, quickly tilt and rotate it with a seesawing up-and-down motion to distribute the batter evenly, and return it to the burner. As soon as the batter sets up and becomes colored a light gold, slip a spatula underneath it and flip it over to do the other side. Cook it briefly; then transfer it to a plate.

Preparing the Eggplant for the Pie's Filling
1. Cut off the eggplants' spiky green tops. Cut the eggplants lengthwise into slices about 1/2 inch thick. If you're using purple eggplant, remove their tough skin.

2. Set a colander over a bowl or deep dish. Line the colander with one lager of the eggplant slices; sprinkle slightly with salt; place another layer of eggplant over the first; sprinkle a tiny bit more salt over it; and proceed until you have used up all the slices. Let stand for at least 30 minutes to allow the eggplant to shed some of its astringent liquid.

3. Remove the eggplant slices from the colander and pat them dry with paper towels.

4. Pour enough vegetable oil into a 12-inch skillet to come at least 3/4 inch up the sides of the pan and turn the heat on to high. [Yeah, I only did this on the first batch because it felt like way too much oil to me... I just reoiled the bottom of the pan and sauteed the eggplant.] When the oil is hot enough to sizzle if tested by dipping one end of an eggplant slice into it, slip in as many slices as will fit very loosely, without crowding. Fry the eggplant to a rich golden brown, and use a slotted spatula to transfer to a platter lined with a double thickness of paper towels. Lay the slices flat without overlapping too much. Add more slices to the pan. When they are done transfer them to the platter, after having covered the previous layer with double thickness of paper towels, and proceed thus until all the eggplant is done. Let cool completely.

Preparing the Peppers for the Pie's Filling
1. Wash the peppers and, if you have a gas burner, put them directly on the lit burner; otherwise, put the peppers under a hot broiler. Turn them periodically to char the skin on all sides, then put them in a paper bag and knot it tightly closed. Let them cool completely.

2. When the peppers are cool enough to handle comfortably, remove them from the bag and pull off all their skin. Split them open and remove their core and all the seeds. Cut the peeled pepper flesh into strips or pieces that more or less match the eggplant's pieces, and sprinkle with salt.

Assembling and Baking the Pie
1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

2. Combine the eggplant and peppers, mixing them with all but 3 tablespoons of the grated Parmesan.

3. Lightly smear the inside of the baking pan with vegetable oil.

4. Lay one of the crespelle on the bottom of the pan.

5. Divide the eggplant and pepper mixture into four equal parts. Evenly spread one of the parts over the crespella in the pan. Top with another crespella, then another portion of the eggplant and pepper mixture, and proceed thus until you have topped off the pie with the fifth crespella.

6. Sprinkle the 3 tablespoons of Parmesan over the pie and dot with the 2 tablespoons of butter.

7. Bake in the uppermost level of the oven for 25 minutes, until the top of the pie has become colored a rich gold. Let the pie settle for 5 to 8 minutes, then use a metal spatula to lift it out to the pan, and without turning it over, transfer to a platter and serve. [We used a spring form pan, which made this much, much easier.] Sprinkle with additional Parmesan.

Okay, August, do you want to slow down? I am just not quite ready to close the books on Summer Napfest 2010. But if we do have to mark the end of summer, let's do it with a summery drink in hand!

I am well aware that we have a full month to go before the official end of summer arrives. But I head back to work on Monday, and to mark the end of quite possibly one of the best summers of my entire life, we made dinner for the husband's parents.

First, let's talk about why this summer has been so wonderful. One word: Naps. My entire summer, post Illinois wedding, has revolved around my nap schedule. Oh, you want to get together in the afternoon? Sorry, can't. I have a nap scheduled at 2 p.m. Soon such luxuries will no longer be mine.

After today's nap, the husband and I went over to the husband's parents' house and made them two Page 210 recipes (the main course will be in the next entry). To open, we made watermelon sangria. And sweet business, this recipe is a superstar, even when we substituted wine for the honey mead that is called for in the recipe.

This cookbook (more about Dona Tomas in a minute) says that you can get your agave mead from Mountain Meadows Mead in Westwood, California. I looked around for it in town (not too hard, I admit) and decided to just use a fruity white wine instead. We added a little honey and pulled back on the simple syrup (see recipe alterations below).

Um. Wow. I was surprised by how the addition of the citrus to the watermelon and the wine made this drink sweet, sour, and fresh. The amount of booze per drink is relatively low, so you can easily have two and not feel lightheaded. You will get full, however. Pureed watermelon is remarkably filling.

Let's talk for a moment about where this recipe comes from. Dona Tomas is another favorite restaurant in town. Opened almost exactly 11 years ago in Temescal, Dona Tomas boasts an authentic take on Mexican food. The purveyors of Dona Tomas--Thomas Schnetz and Dona Savitsky--say, "No burritos or nachos in sight." They have a transcendent budin that they serve in the summer; it's basically a corn and zucchini quiche/pudding made with cups of heavy cream. We limit ourselves to having it once a year. The Sopa de Lima is phenomenal both in the restaurant and when we make it at home from the cookbook (and easy to make on a weeknight). They also make remarkably strong margaritas that I surprisingly pass up for their Pepe Pepino (Hendricks gin, Cointreau, lime and fresh cucumber) because the Pepino is fresh and cool. However, the husband stands by the margarita. He also stands by the carnitas, and orders nothing else from the menu. I, on the other hand, have made it my personal mission to try everything. Which is difficult as the menu changes with the season.

While the rest of the country has endured hot temperatures (seriously, DC, 53 consecutive days of 90-plus-degree weather?), we in the Bay Area have had a foggy, glorious summer. Regardless of your weather pattern, mix up a batch of these, and toast the end of summer and the end of nap-season. And if you're a teetotaler, these are pretty amazing without any hootch. Cheers!

For each drink
Juice of 1/2 lime
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 tablespoon simple syrup (we cut this out entirely)
4 tablespoons agave mead or white wine
lime slices (also removed, but the contrast of the bright green next to the pink drink would have been beautiful)

Instructions:
1. Combine the melon and simple syrup in a blender and puree until smooth. Place in the refrigerator for 1 hour, until chilled. The fresca will hold fresh for one day. Any leftovers make a great nonalcoholic drink, but should be reblended before serving.

2. Fill a pint glass with ice. Add the lime juice, lemon juice, simple syrup, mead/wine, and 1/2 cup of the fresca. Shake well and strain into a chilled glass with ice. Garnish with the lime and drink at once. [We also just made all of this in one pitcher instead of making these individual servings. And it was damn fine.]

*to make simple syrup, simply place 1 cup sugar and 1 cup water in a saucepan and bring to a boil over high heat. Cook until sugar is completely dissolved. Remove from heat and allow to cool.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Ever have one of those cooking days? You know the ones. You think, ooh, time to bake, then you realize you have no butter, so you run to the store, buy butter (and eggs, just in case, but it turns out you had plenty of eggs) only to return home to discover you also didn't have cinnamon? Yeah, well, it was one of those days.

But in cobbler, a little less cinnamon and a little more ginger, and no one can tell the difference.

So this is the last of my peach-themed dishes (last week I had to take a break with cold-grain salads). And lordy, the peaches have been great this year. Sweet, juicy, just perfect. While the cool weather around the Bay Area has precluded tomatoes growing (seriously, not one of our tomatoes has a hint of orange, pink, or even yellow), the peach crop has been divine.

So in this final peach recipe, I have been commanded by the folks at Cooking Light(America's most-subscribed-to food magazine, it turns out) to make Peach Cobbler. But upon doing a little research, I have determined that I really made a Slump. And I am definitely on Team Slump. But I thought it might be helpful to know the difference.

Cobbler: a fruit filling poured into a large baking dish and covered with a thick pastry dough, then baked in an oven. The thick crust can be rolled as one sheet or "cobbled" into individual biscuits.

Crisp/Crumble: a dessert, usually consisting of fruit, baked with a crispy topping made from butter, flour, oats, brown sugar, and cinnamon or nutmeg. Americans call them Crisps. Brits call them Crumbles.

Grunt: a fruit dessert made on the stovetop, where the biscuit dough has been steamed rather than baked. Grunts are inverted when served so that the biscuit is on the bottom and the fruit is on top, like a warm fruit shortcake.

Slump: a fruit dessert with the biscuit topping on the bottom of the dessert. It may be steamed as in a grunt or baked as in a cobbler. Often slumps are served inverted so that the biscuit is on the top of the served dessert.

Pandowdy: a baked fruit dessert with a biscuit topping that has been pressed into the fruit; additionally when the biscuit dough is cooked, it becomes crumbly rather than biscuity.

Well, no wonder it's hard to know which is which. Cobbler, Slump. Call it what you will. As my father would say, just don't call me late to dinner. (Or dessert, in this case).

To be honest, I have been putting this recipe off. Part of that has to do with the plethora of peach dishes that I have been cooking. This is dish number four; thus, it did take some planning at the beginning of the year to determine in which order I would be cooking from the cookbooks. I certainly wasn't going to be making this in March. Barring pure ignorance about squab season (I didn't even know squab had a season), I have tried to cook seasonally and buy locally. Yes, Alice Waters, you have my allegiance to seasonal and local foods. However, the main reason for putting this recipe off is that I am not much of a baker.

Over the years, I have acquired a few bread baking books in order to teach myself how to bake, and dear friends of ours recently came to visit us and gave us a fantastic cookbook on no-knead baking that I cannot wait to try. So this fall, I suspect you'll be seeing quite a few breads and other baked dishes.

But why haven't I loved to bake? Part of it is the age-old complaint that with baking you have to be precise whereas with cooking you can be a little more willy-nilly. Part of it is chemistry versus collage. With baking there is a high degree of chemistry happening. Despite the valiant efforts of my chemistry teacher sophomore year in high school, I never really cared why this compound affected that compound. Of course, I was boy-crazy, and a boy I had an undeniable (and unrequited) crush on sat only a few seats in front of me in class. How could I possibly pay attention to Avogadro's number? When he was there. Sitting.

With cooking, there is a good deal of collage-making. You get to play with different materials, layering, adding, smoothing. And if you don't like how something tastes, often you can add something else to cover, mask, or simply cancel out another flavor. With baking, you don't know if the bread is any good until you cut into it after you've baked it. With cooking, you know if your lasagna sauce is pile of goo long before you assemble the pasta.

Anyway, I digress. And indeed, it is a digression, for the dough on this cobbler is quite tasty and turned out to have just the right chewiness associated with biscuits. To boot, the filling on this dish called out for sampling as I mixed in the spices, seeing as I didn't have enough cinnamon. Thus, I was able to taste and alter accordingly (a little more vanilla here a little more ginger there). Who knew that not having all of the ingredients would actually turn out to be a good thing? So for all of those made-up justifications for cooking over baking, I guess I have to rethink my stance.

This recipe has been yet another lesson in preconceived notions. About peaches. About baking. About having enough ingredients. My, how I have notions.

2. Lightly spoon flour into dry measuring cups; level with a knife. Place 2 cups flour, 1 tablespoon sugar and salt in a food processor. Pulse 2-3 times to blend. Add butter and pulse 10 times or until the mixture resembles coarse meal. With the processor on, slowly pour ice water through food chute, processing until just combines (do not form a a ball).

3. Press flour mixture gently into a 4-inch circle on parchment paper; cover with an additional sheet of parchment paper. Roll dough, still covered into a rectangle larger than the size of your baking dish (they recommend a 15 x 13 inch rectangle for a 2 quart baking dish). Place dough in freezer for 5 minutes or until the parchment paper can be easily removed Fit the dough into a 2-quart baking dish that has been coated with cooking spray. Allow the the dough to extend over the edges of the dish.

4. Combine peaches, 1/2 cup brown sugar, 2-1/2 tablespoons flour, vanilla, and spices (cinnamon/ginger) in a large bowl; toss gently. Spoon the peach mixture into the prepared dish with the dough. Fold the edges of the dough over the peach mixture (it will only partially cover the peaches). Sprinkle 1/4 cup brown sugar over peach mixture and sprinkle with almonds.

5. Brush beaten egg over the exposed dough. Sprinkle with 1 tablespoon sugar. Bake at 375 degrees for 45 minutes or until the filling is bubbly and the crust is lightly browned. Let stand 30 minutes before serving.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

This cookbook was one of those I once used to teach myself how to cook many a moon ago. Remember, I was once a vegetarian. See here. And here. The cookbook relies on dairy, eggs, and the occasional Worcestershire sauce (which causes one Amazon reviewer to take this cookbook to task), so vegetarians beware, even though the title says that all of you will be included. Perhaps as this dairy-laden book helped me learn to become a vegetarian cook, I never really did lose any weight in those heady days of vegetarianism back in Utah and Colorado. However, the options available to vegetarians twenty years ago (dear lord, did I just write that??? How is it that I was once so young and am now so old) were quite limited in comparison to where they are now. Most 1990s vegetarian cooking, at least as far as I knew it, was the substitution or the removal of meat products from otherwise carnivore-rich foods. This cookbook might be worth the 1 cent (yes!) being charged these days on amazon. However, there are many more inspiring vegetarian cookbooks out there nowadays.

That said, I still like this cookbook. There is an omelet that requires whipping the egg whites, which results in a sort of fluffy omelet. I know. That's a tiny bit foul, but try it. You'll like it. There's a comforting Vermicelli with Mushrooms and Pine Nuts (and I know, I know, the evaporated skim milk as a base only smacks of my Midwestern roots, which we have already discussed here). I do remember once serving eggs sardou from this cookbook, however. That was an experience I never want to repeat again. It was not good--in fact it was an absolutely epic failure that resulted in an ex-boyfriend (to whom I served said sardou) always snickering when I mentioned it--but it might be because in general, I don't think I like egg sardou.

However, I like this cookbook for the inspiration for grain-based salads, even if I have to tweak them a bit. And they're great in the summertime when the heat is climbing (although it's not around here. It has been a particularly chilly, foggy summer. Which is perfect. But if it were hot out, I might want to make these salads even more). So bring out the grains when the heat index hits 100.

So as I said, two for the price of one.

On page 120 (because this thin little number doesn't go all the way up to page 210), I had my choice of Apple-Wild Rice Salad (wrong season), Corn and Barley Salad, and Bulgur and Broccoli Salad. So I decided to make both the barley and the bulgur salads. In a little less than three weeks, my daily nap schedule will change. I head back to work, back to school. And that means back to packing my own lunches every day. Both of these salads, or iterations of them, will indeed be moved into rotation.

So let's start with the barley salad. Nutrition: I am sort of fascinated with the graphs on this page. Barley is "strongly inflammatory," so watch out. Nonetheless, I forgot how much I like barley. Yes, now that I am not a vegetarian, I generally love it paired with an autumnal, salty, braised beef. But it also makes a great nutty base for a summer salad. Barley is one of the very first crops ever domesticated by humans. Gazowe! Talk about feeling as if you're connected to human food history. Without a hull, barley is a grain easy to digest, and pearl barley removes even more of the outer layers (thus making this little grain even more palatable and easier to process). Apparently barley grows in areas where other grains are reluctant to grow. To boot, it's the fourth ranked grain in total production (much of it going to animal feed and beer (malt!) production).

Anyway, barley's darned tasty when paired with corn. In this recipe corn acts as another carbohydrate "grain" and there is almost as much corn as barley. In fact, in my next go-round with this recipe, I will call for less or, maybe even, gasp, no corn (depending on the season) and a substitution of another vegetable (zucchini?). In sum, this salad needed a little something more. More salt? More basil? I don't know. I was looking forward to this salad more than the other because I love barley, but in total, it was a little lacking.

Now to the bulgur salad. Bulgur is high in fiber, low in fat, and is used extensively in Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cooking. Think tabbouleh.

Beyond this workhorse of a wheat grain, the true highlight of this recipe is the walnut-soy sauce combination. Three tablespoons of chopped walnuts (and I don't even LIKE walnuts) flash fried with a tablespoon of soy sauce. Sweet business. Sprinkle those little salt bombs on top of a lemony bulgur salad, and I am sold. The steamed broccoli and crunchy carrots were a nice contrast to the bulgur and I liked the hint of garlic. I think perhaps a little less water and a bit more oil in the lemon dressing will only make this better. And be sure to keep the soy-bomb-walnuts-of-fabulousness (official name) separate from the salad if you have leftovers so that they don't get soggy. This is one I will make again. And lucky most of the ingredients in this salad stay in season throughout the winter. I suspect we'll be seeing this one packed into my lunch bag a couple of times this fall.

So what's the take home message? Just make more grain- or legume-based salads, regardless of the cookbook. I forgot how much I like chilled salads that I can makes tons of on Sunday and still be eating on Tuesday. Lentils, you're next.

Instructions:
1. Combine boiling water and bulgur in a large bowl, stir, and let stand for 30 minutes or until the liquid is absorbed. Fluff with a fork and set aside.

2. Meanwhile, arrange the broccoli in a vegetable steamer over boiling water. Cover and steam about 3 minutes until bright green and crisp-tender. Combine broccoli, carrot and shallots in a small bowl.

3. Heat a non-stick skillet, add walnuts and cook for 3 minutes, stirring constantly to prevent burning. Add soy sauce, continuing to stir, until the soy sauce is absorbed. Remove from skillet and set aside.